You fold his hands and smooth his tie
You gently lift his chin
Were you really so blind
And unkind to him?

Kurt arrives at the church a half an hour early, even though he was told to come at 11am sharp. Why was this being held at a church anyway? Blaine wasn’t even remotely religious, neither were his parents from what Kurt could tell. It was probably out of spite. If it were up to Kurt, today would be held outside, surrounded by the autumn-colored trees and the bright sun shining down. But the Andersons wouldn’t let Kurt do a single thing for today. The uptight, upper class couple never really cared for Kurt, then again they never cared much for Blaine’s lifestyle choices in general, but they put up with him because regardless of everything, they did love their son in their own way. Even if that way involved never talking to him about anything beyond school work and constantly being away on business. Never would they allow Kurt any creative leadership with an event as important as today though. He’s lucky he was even invited in the first place, especially after how everything went down… and after they found the letter. Kurt slips his hand into his steel gray pants pocket and strokes the folded up piece of paper that has his name scribbled across it. The last thing he has left from the love of his life.

Walking into the church, Kurt sees multiple dark, curly haired men and women rushing about placing last minute pictures and double checking sheet music. Most of the pictures on display contain Cooper as well as Blaine, the younger brother not wearing a genuine smile in any of them. Kurt could’ve given them pictures. Tons. All with Blaine looking blissfully happy. Oh, how he wishes he could see that smile again.

Can't help the itch to touch, to kiss
To hold him once again
Now to close his eyes
Never open them

There it is. Just sitting there. At the front of the little church was the casket that held Blaine. His Blaine. No matter what had happened between them in the past two weeks, no matter whose hearts were broken or who was with whom, Blaine was Kurt’s and Kurt was Blaine’s. Even now, when one of them lies lifeless in a over priced box, they belong to each other.

Kurt, slow and unsure, made his way to the casket.

Blaine lay there, breathless and peaceful, wearing a silver, three piece suit and his favorite bow tie. Kurt had given it to him for their first christmas together. The silky, soft shades of green brought out the yellow specks that danced around in his perfect, round hazel eyes. However, Blaine’s eyes were closed today, and they weren’t going to open again. His hands were draped across his heart, reminding Kurt of the night they stood together on WMHS’s stage after opening night of West Side Story. When Kurt held Blaine’s hands to his heart and confessed just how proud he was to be with this boy. They shared a beautiful night together, the first of many.

Kurt hesitantly places his hand on top of Blaine’s, but the warmth that once traveled through his body from any contact with his boyfriend was nonexistent. His cheeks were colorless, the blush that was so easily conjured by a simple compliment or kiss had fled with the warmth. Kurt gasps, choking a sob that was caught in his throat and let the tears finally fall.

“How c-could you do this to m-me? How could you l-leave like this? I said I was never saying goodbye to you and I m-meant it. No matter what you d-did, you are the only one for me Blaine. I miss you so much it hurts. Why would you l-let it c-come to this? Help me understand..."

A shadow passed, a shadow passed
Yearning, yearning
For the fool it called a home

Kurt took out the letter. He had read it the night he came home from New York, after he had gotten the phone call from his dad. The one that changed his world forever. With all the tears and confusion of that night he couldn’t really grasp the meaning of what he was reading, it was from Blaine and that’s all that mattered.

Now, as he unfolded the paper and began to read, he wasn't just desperately holding on to the last thing left of his love. He was searching for answers.

Dear Kurt,

My lovely Kurt. How does one start a letter like this? I am so sorry for ever hurting you. I don't know what you could possibly think of me now. Just know that this isn't your fault. It never was, regardless of what I might have said in the park that night. You were the only person I ever felt myself with, and for that I owe you the world. I'm sorry I can't be there to give it to you.

All things he never did are left behind.
All the things his mama wished he'd bear in mind,
And all his dad had hoped he'd know.

The truth is, death had been on my mind since the day I came out to my parents. The day I tried to show them who I really was when all they wanted was a ‘normal’ son who had ‘natural’ feelings. I always knew they loved Cooper more... no I shouldn’t say loved, but they were more invested in him than me. I was just the kid that came after, the kid they never really planned on having, the one who turned out abnormal. I tried so hard to be normal Kurt, I really did. I built that car with my dad because I knew it would make him happy. I watched football with him and Coop and even started to enjoy it after a while. I got all As and tried to be as respectful as possible. I did everything I could think of to please my parents, but they never seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn’t care, because their perfectly straight son was there to never let them down.

The talks you never had
The Saturdays you never spent
All the grown-up places
You never went

Of course, after the Sadie Hawkins dance, things got worse. I thought about bringing a girl, but it didn’t feel right. Everyone at school already knew I was gay, so even if I’d asked, no one would’ve agreed to go with me. So I took a boy, and, god Kurt, it was just so freeing. I wasn’t hiding who I was, or trying to live up to anyone’s expectations. It’s not like we did anything that couldn’t be considered platonic, except for maybe the slow dance, but nobody said anything. Then we got outside and everything turned to shit. How can a person go from feeling so high on life one minute, to feeling like complete crap the next? The injuries hurt, but what really stung, was my pride. These people who I thought were my friends, turned on me. If you could’ve seen my parents faces that night at the hospital, you would see just how disappointed they were in me. Not only was their son gay, but now he had to flaunt it? He had to bring attention to the family because he couldn’t stand his ground? They said they were sending me to Dalton to keep me safe, to allow me to have a fresh start, but really I think they just wanted to get rid of me.

And all of the crying
You wouldn't understand
You just let him cry
Make a man out of him

Dalton was great. I made friends, I joined the Warblers, and no one seemed to care that I was gay. I still wasn’t myself though. After I got my first solo, I kind of became the head Warbler (well, you know that). I had to put on this braveface, to have this leadership presence, even though I wasn’t on the council. Really, I was just a scared boy who walked around on pins and needles, hoping to avoid anything worthy of being reported back to father dearest. For our first competition with me as lead soloist, I invited my whole family. Dalton was hosting it, so it was right near home. Nobody came. My dad had to work, my mother had her charity group meeting (“and I’m President, Blaine, I couldn’t possibly miss it”), and Cooper had an audition. We came in first. While the other boys went around to their parents, I sat in the dressing room staring at my phone, hoping someone would call. Nobody did.

A shadow passed, a shadow passed
Yearning, yearning
For the fool it called a home

Even though nobody cared who was gay or straight at Dalton, there still weren’t a lot of out guys so I didn’t date much. I got kissed once, at a party. It turned out the guy was drunk. Then you came along and flipped my world upside down. The first thing I thought of when I saw you standing on the staircase was “Who is this perfect boy and why does he so obviously not go to Dalton?” I swore I would never tell you this, but before I brought you to the commons, I texted Wes saying we should switch our performance from “Hey Soul Sister” to “Teenage Dream” and that is was an emergency. From the get go I wanted to impress you Kurt, wanted you to notice me. Then, we talked after and you seemed so scared and alone, just like I was. I thought that if I could seem strong and confident to you, maybe I would actually become that person. I know it seems like it took me awhile to kiss you, Kurt, but it was only because I was scared. You were, are, everything that I could ever want in a person. It all felt so right with you and I didn’t want to screw it up. So much for that.

All things he ever wished are left behind
All the things his mama did to make him mind
And how his dad had hoped he'd grow

The day I kissed you for the first time was happiest day of my life. The day I broke your heart was the worst. I was just so sure I was losing you, Kurt. I was so sure that you were going to call me at any minute saying that long distance was too hard, that we should end it and move on. So I sabotaged us. There was this voice in head screaming that you didn’t care anymore, that you never cared, and that I should make sure that you wouldn’t want to care. So that at least when we ended it, it was because of something other than my lack of appeal. I did the worst thing imaginable, and it makes me sick to my stomach writing about it now. Words on a paper make it seem so real, make my entire life seem so real. All I want is for it to be a dream, one horrible dream that I could wake up from and never return to. Life isn’t a dream though, but death may be. Death is just one long dream where you float in nothingness. I think I’d like that, nothingness. I think that’s what I need now. And you deserve to be rid of me.

All things he ever lived are left behind
All the fears that ever flickered through his mind
All the sadness that he'd come to own

It won’t be a painful death, at least I don’t think it will be. I’ll just be floating into a dream. Just waiting for this cough syrup to go down. Like the song remember? I sang that to you. I never really expected it to pertain to me though, at least I hoped it wouldn’t. That night in the bar was the last time I’ll ever sing to you. At least it was our song, even though I kind of butchered it. It’s funny how a relationship can open and close with the same song. I still feel every word of it for you. Even if I am just floating in a dream for the rest of eternity, the part of me that loves you will never leave. I promise, if my promises even mean anything anymore. From Teenage Dream to Teenage Dream. Thank you for being mine.
Yours Forever,
Blaine.

A shadow past, a shadow past
Yearning, yearning
For the fool it called a home

Kurt gently folds the letter up again, and slips it back into his pocket, careful not to get any tear stains on it. He gazes down at his boyfriend, trying his best to see clearly through pools of water that were gathered in his eyes. After another moment, he reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a little red box and opens it. Inside, lies the very delicate, very precious promise ring that Blaine gave to him last Christmas. It might have been made out of Juicy Fruit wrappers, but it was easily the best gift Kurt has ever received. Gentilly, Kurt lifts the limp left hand that is still resting on Blaine’s chest. He slides the ring onto the ring finger and lays it down in it’s former place, it’s final place. Before turning away from his love for the last time, he leans down and places a chaste kiss to Blaine’s cheek.

Kurt takes a seat in a pew in the second row and waits for the rest of the attendees to file in, Burt and Carole eventually taking the spaces to either side of him. The service is beautiful. The New Directions and the Warblers sing together, but Kurt isn’t really paying attention to what song it is. He’s too busy thinking about a boy, a beautiful boy who shook his world just by showing him a shortcut.

And it whistles through the ghosts still left behind
It whistles through the ghosts still left behind
It whistles through the ghosts still left behind